Lavender Brown is Good With Boys
by La Fille Avec Le Stylo
Summary: Lavender Brown was good with boys; gifted, some might say. That being said, she was having difficulties with her soon- to- be- latest conquest.


When she was five years old, Lavender Brown's mother had sat her down at given her the most important advice she would ever receive in her lifetime. This advice had started out as a simple question, which had led to a revelation the magnitude of which Lavender was unprepared to fully comprehend at the time.

"How do you think Mummy got Daddy?" her mother had asked after sitting the pigtailed girl down at the table. Lavender thought back to the fairy tales she'd been hearing all her life, considered the question, and responded with what seemed to be the safest guess.

"True Love's Kiss?"

"No," her mother replied, voice and face both very serious, "not at all. Mummy got Daddy by capturing him in a moment of weakness and convincing him that he needed her for his survival."

Lavender, like most five- year- olds would be if their mother had told them something of that nature, was very bemused. "So you aren't Daddy's true love?" she asked, clearly confused and horrified at the thought.

"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not," her mother responded, smiling gently now, "but that doesn't matter as long as Daddy thinks I am." Lavender bit her lip, still lost. "Remember this, Lavender," her mother said, leaning forward to stress the importance of the words that were to follow, "true love has very little to do with marriage. Marriage and relationships are all about mind control."

Eleven years later, Lavender still remembered that conversation with perfect clarity. Her mother, she had learned, was right. The only thing boys were really in love with was Quidditch, and it was her job to make them think otherwise. She had proven to be very good at that, if Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Terry Boot were anything to go by.

Lavender was good at making males believe that they needed her, even better than her mother had been. For example, her mother had clearly told her that to make these things work one needed to catch a boy in a moment of weakness, but Lavender knew it was not so. She had found that catching a boy in a moment of glory added the extra protection of the delirious state of mind boys developed after a victory which made them game for just about anything- including an exclusive relationship with Lavender Brown.

Lavender also knew that most boys would not be impressed by the dominance her mother exerted over her father. Of course Lavender still held the majority of the power in her relationships, but she was more subtle about it, preferring to suggest and insinuate her way to getting the things she wanted rather than demanding them outright.

Yes, Lavender Brown was good with boys; gifted, some might say. That being said, she was having difficulties with her soon- to- be- latest conquest. He was a classic case by the usual standards; hadn't dated before, was known to be a bit of a follower, wanted some attention. What made this particular case more difficult was the fact that he was never alone, and Lavender's preferred method of operation when it came to getting boys was to get them on their own and "bond."

Lavender had never once in all her years of boy- snatching declared defeat, but she was on the brink in this boy's case. He was constantly with his two best friends, never leaving their sides for longer than a second. She also had a sneaking suspicion that he fancied the female in his little trio, meaning that failure to act fast might lead to his being snatched up by some other, less- worthy girl.

"And what, Miss Brown," Professor McGonagall said sharply, "is so fascinating about the back of Mr. Weasley's head?" Lavender's head snapped up, her eyes meeting the professor's. She had been caught staring at Ron Weasley, and by lunchtime the whole school would know. There were two ways to play this, and she had to act fast.

"I, um, it was," she stuttered, a blush rising on her cheeks as the boy in question turned to look at her and she deftly avoided eye contact. "I- I wasn't, that is, I didn't, it was... nothing," she finally managed, her hands and voice shaking so hard that she dropped her quill.

"If it was nothing," the professor tutted, "then I suggest to pay attention to what's happening in class." Lavender bobbed her head and looked down at her desk, allowing herself a self- satisfied smirk while the rest of the class was watching the professor. She had just managed yet another perfect performance, and she felt very strongly that she deserved some applause.

Lavender Brown had not been at all embarrassed to be caught staring at Ron Weasley, in fact she'd been hoping that would happen. Being caught staring shows him that she's interested, and stammering implies that she's shy, a girl who might just need to be saved some day soon, and if there was anything that would attract Ron Weasley to a girl it would be an opportunity to be a hero. She laughed silently to herself, idly twirling her quill between her manicured fingers. _They make it so easy._

The rest of the lesson was unbearably dull. Professor McGonagall had droned on about some unimportant, uninteresting aspect of the "art" of Transfiguration for all of eternity, Hermione Granger had raised her hand so quickly and so many times that she may very well have gotten whiplash, and Harry Potter had sniggered at a few inside jokes with Ron Weasley. In fact, nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all until the very end, when Ron, who had borrowed a quill from Hermione, had returned it to her.

Reaching across the gap in the aisle to return the quill, Ron lost his balance and began to fall towards the hard, stone floor, saving himself by reaching over and grabbing Hermione for balance. This in itself was uninteresting, as Lavender knew Ron was something of a klutz- it was part of his charm. The interesting part was the fact that he had grabbed Hermione's thigh to stabilize himself, and that both Ron and Hermione had sported matching blushes after it happened, as well as annoyingly pleased grins.

Lavender was severely annoyed by these things. She figured that, at this rate, Ron and Hermione would work out their feelings for one another within the week, leaving her out in the cold. She seethed quietly at the thought and, shooting one last (unnoticed) glare at Hermione, formulated a plan.

Lavender paid very little attention during the rest of the class, glancing constantly at her pink Weird Sisters watch and fiddling with her hair until the old professor finally released them. Gathering her books, Lavender took a second to mentally prepare herself for what was about to ensue. Five years of acting lessons, courtesy of her mother, were about to pay off.

Cutting into the line of student filing out of the classroom, Lavender positioned herself between Ron Weasley and the boy in front of him, cutting Ron off from his two best friends. Then, when it seemed a good time, Lavender threw herself to the ground in a convincing trip, her books and quills scattering all over the floor of the Transfiguration classroom.

"Lavender," her friends squealed, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Lavender said, a convincing quaver in her voice. "You go on without me, I'll catch up." Her friends nodded, concern etched on their painted faces, and hurried off. Lavender, meanwhile, made a convincing failed attempt to get back up.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ron asked, bending down on one knee next to her. "Do you want some help picking these up?" Lavender glanced around the classroom at her books, fixing an expression of uncertainty on her delicate features. "Here, let me help you," Ron said, smiling.

"Thanks," she gushed, her voice convincingly relieved and thankful, an almost apologetic expression on her face.

They gathered the books in silence, Lavender blushing and shooting glances in Ron's direction every few seconds, glances which did not go unnoticed by the boy in question.

"Is that all of them, then?" Ron asked, gently removing from Lavender's arms the books she was carrying.

"Oh, I can carry those myself," Lavender stammered, lowering her eyes. "You don't need to do that."

"It's alright," Ron assured her, tucking Lavender's books under his arm. "You're going back to the common room, right?" Lavender nodded her head silently.

"Thanks for helping me out back there," she said, looking at him shyly. "I really, really appreciate it."

"Oh, that, yeah," Ron stammered, clearly unsure of what to do with this attention from a girl who'd hardly spoken to him before. "It's nothing, don't mention it."

"No, but I do appreciate it."

Ron nodded and fought to keep a smile off his face. The two walked in silence for a while, finally coming to a stop in front of a large painting of a lady dressed in pink.

"Are you coming in, then?" Lavender asked, gesturing to the poster.

"No, I'm working on that essay for potions class with Harry, I was supposed to meet him in the library," Ron smiled, handing Lavender her books.

Lavender's face seemed to fall a little but that didn't prevent a small smile from forming on her lips. "Thanks again, Ron," she said, her eyes probing his in what, according to most psychologists, would cause him to believe she was interested. "I'm glad it was you who helped me out."

"Yeah, no problem," he said, blushing even deeper. "It was my pleasure." Lavender nodded, smiled, and waved to him as he turned on his heel and walked towards the library.

"Giant Squid," she said to the woman in the portrait, causing it to swing forward on a hinge to reveal a passageway into the Gryffindor common room. Smirking, Lavender practically skipped into the red and gold room.

Ron Weasley would be hers within the week.


End file.
